


Branded

by Tiph



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Blood, F/M, Graphic descriptions, Torture, fragile person beware, hurt comfort, lot of it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 04:30:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5991736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiph/pseuds/Tiph
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>''I warned you Marcus, that if you crossed the line another time you'll have to suffer the consequences of your actions. I have been merciful so far, but my patience has its limits. Tonight, you will undergo so much pain that you will be begging me to end your life. I am looking forward to that, I've let you run free for too long, the time has come to rectify my mistake.''</p>
<p>Pike deals with the brand on Marcus' arm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Branded

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sam_Kabaam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sam_Kabaam/gifts).



''I warned you Marcus, that if you crossed the line another time you'll have to suffer the consequences of your actions. I have been merciful so far, but my patience has its limits. Tonight, you will undergo so much pain that you will be begging me to end your life. I am looking forward to that, I've let you run free for too long, the time has come to rectify my mistake.''

He winced when Pike grabbed his already bruised jaw from his fight with the guards, the urge to punch the man had never been this strong, and if two men hadn't been holding him against a wall he would have certainly given in to his anger. Anger against Pike, anger against his own failure. He hadn't been quick and stealth enough, it was his fault, and he was going to pay for it, whatever the price might be.

''Oh yes, this will be fun, I can have quite the imagination as you will find out.''

On that, he was roughly pulled away from the metallic wall and thrown in a holding cell. Again. He stumbled and fell on his back, hitting his head on the ground at the same time. He grunted but made no attempt to move yet, waiting for the pain to subside. He was perfectly content where he was, lying on his back on the cold floor, eyes closed, regaining his composture. He heard shuffling behind him but payed it no attention ; it was the first moment of calm he could enjoy since it all began. There was nothing he could do, nothing he had to think about – except the fate that would befall him, which he tried to put as far back as possible in the dusty recesses of his mind.

''Kane ?''

He opened his eyes with a sigh. It took longer than usual, but he finally managed to focus on Lincoln, crouching down to his right.

''Are you alright ? We thought you were unconscious.''

If only. Being unconscious sounded like heaven, lying somewhere, eyes and mind closed, not aware of anything that might happen around him, letting the world run without him for a while. How good it would feel. He had always been a man of action, but the past events wore him, he was tired of fighting, tired of people never listening to what he was saying.

He took the hand Lincoln offered him and was very quickly pulled to a standing position, a little bit too quickly for his liking. He swayed on his feet, but thanks to the other man's reflexes he didn't end up face on the flood. He was led to a bench in a corner of the cell, and after a grateful nod, rested his head on the wall behind him.

''You took quite the beating.''

He didn't have to look to know that Octavia was now sitting there too, she and Lincoln had been arrested two days before but had been treated surprisingly fairly compared to him. He must had pissed Pike a lot. He had a way to get under people's skin, he used to enjoy doing it quite a lot, when he wasn't at risk of being tortured to prove a point that was.

''The guards that attacked me ended up in a worse state.''

She chuckled and he let a smirk play on his mouth, forgetting about the ut on his lip that started bleeding again. He wiped it on his sleeve, thinking that he must look quite the sight. He had blood on his face – not all his, thank you very much – and on his grey shirt, bruises all over his body, and bags the side of Polis' tower under his eyes.

He had taken a liking to the Blake siblings, though Bellamy's betrayal had hurt. A hell of a lot. He had thought they had found a common ground, that they had worked through whatever issues they had in the past, he respected him and trusted him more than the other guards. And yet, it had to happen, Pike had not only won the Chancellor's pin but also the heart of the people he had almost sacrificed his life for several times. Even if she was as headstrong as her brother, Octavia was a lot different and in a lot of ways. They had bonded over the grounder culture, the three of them with Lincoln had spent numerous hours talking about the ways of his people that fascinated him. They taught him, and the instructed them in exchange.

''So now Chancellor Griffin is the only one left out there ?''

Sinclair's voice broke through his maze of thoughts. He had to smile at the man's loyalty, still calling Abby his Chancellor, it was this passive defiance that got him here, as well as tampering with a few electrical cables and wires that might have locked up Pike in his room for an entire day.

''I feel like we're playing a game, the last one to get caught wins.''

A few quiet laughs echoed in the room at Octavia's intervention. A game, yes, it was a game. Of life and death. They well all pawns with only bad and worse choices to make.

* * *

 

A loud bang startled him awake. He blinked several times to see a guard standing in front of him. No, not a guard. Bellamy.

''It's time, sir.''

The young man was obviously trying his hardest to ignore his sister's yells, keeping his face straight. But his eyes betrayed him. His eyes always betrayed him. Maybe there was still a chance for him to recognize the wrong in his actions, it couldn't be too late. If he had been brought back, then anyone could.

He stood up, there was no point in fighting back, it would only delay the inevitable. A man got a pair of handcuffs out of his pocket, but quickly put them back when he saw the look Marcus was giving him. A young that he had trained himself. He was glad to see that he could see instil fear in people, a small gratification in the face of what was to come.

The walk outside was silent and oppressing, people stopped everything in order to see what was happening. Eyes followed him as he walked, he took in all the familiar faces, he knew all of them, names flashed in his mind, jobs, events. A crowd had already begun to gather in front of a platform. So very theatrical. Pike was already there, apparently in the middle of a long speech. The man did like the sound of his own voice.

Once he was up there, things escalated very fast. One of Pike's goons grabbed him from behind, and soon his right sleeve was rolled up. He stopped paying attention to what they were doing or saying. He didn't care. His focus was on one single thought.

Where was Abby ?

His eyes scanned the crowd over and again, face after face, but he couldn't find her. Had she been arrested too and put in a different cell ? What happened ? His breathing was beginning to quicken. His movements were frantic now, he looked and looked, over and over. She wasn't here. He was alone. Utterly alone, and it frightened him. From the moment he had seen Pike coming for him he had known what would happen eventually. He had been prepared because he knew she would be here by his side, like she had been for the last few month, he had thought that they would face it together.

He needed her. She had left him. Betrayal. That's the first word that came to his mind. A word that he seemed to be using a lot lately. The rational part of his brain whispered that there had to be a logical explanation, or that she would barge in at the last moment and save the day. Save him.

She didn't. She never came.

''Looking for someone, are we ? Looks like everyone has deserted you, my friend.''

Headbutting Charles Pike wasn't a good idea. Note for future references. Seeing the blood flow out of his nose was worth it. Except that his own blood would flow too later, and in greater quantities.

His right arm was held steady by several hands, he knew what was coming. It didn't make it easier. He smelled it before the burn was registered by his brain. The smell of burnt flesh. His flesh. Then came the agonizing pain. The brand was only three days old, was still sensitive and not yet healed. It hurt. It hurt more than that day at Polis, it lasted longer than that day at Polis. He bit so hard on the inside of his cheeks to keep from screaming, from giving him the satisfaction, that the bitter taste of blood flooded his mouth in a record time.

When he iron was taken away from his skin, taking some of it with it, he couldn't help a moan to escape his lips. People cheered. Smoke was coming from the angry red and ugly mark on his arm. He tried to breathe deeply but each intake brought with it the disgusting smell, which did nothing but made him want to throw up. Maybe if he could aim right -

''The first part is over. You took a lot better than I expected you to, I admit. But I have no doubt that even your beloved grounders in that city of theirs will hear your screams in a few minutes.''

Why was everyone so silent all of a sudden ? He turned his head around, just in time to see a woman bring over another branding iron, a big branding iron. Thrice the size of the previous one. Fuck. The first one he could take, but this one...

''Pike, what are you doing ? We only talked about burning the coallition symbol, you're going too far !''

A little bit late for a change of heart Bellamy, don't you think ? He didn't even care about the young man's protests, nor the growing uneasiness of the crowd, it was all too much to take in. He was afraid. A shiver. His body was in shock. His mind as well. He had been wounded before, a lot of times, but never by his own people, never by the people he trusted with his life. The bitter taste that it left in his mouth reminded him that he had been too naive, that he had trusted too much. A mistake he wouldn't do again.

After further study, he realized that the iron was shaped as the Ark's symbol. How thoughtful. His shirt was ripped off his body, revealing his well-toned and covered in sweat chest. Another shiver. Of fear, cold, or shock, he didn't know and didn't want to know. Protests emerged from the people, a lot of them walked away, cowards, he thought, not able to face the truth that you voted for the guy.

His eyes searched for Abby once again. He needed her, how could she not be here for him ? Would she hear him scream ? Probably.

It all went fast, at first. He was grabbed from behind, and too soon the branding iron was put in the middle of his chest. Then time slowed down. Screams tore his throat open, he couldn't hear anything beside his own tortured voice. He didn't hear the loud protests of the crowd, nor Bellamy's ones and Pike's delighted chuckle. He didn't see the hesistant looks the guards were giving him, the guards, men and women he had trained himself both on the Ark and on the ground.

Unconsciousness wouldn't come. He wasn't granted the reprieve of passing out, his muscles were spasming, he couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything but think that death sounded a good alternative at the moment.

On Pike's order, the iron was pressed harder and further into his skin. He had never screamed so much and loud in his entire life. He had never felt that much pain either. It was beyond anything he had ever been through, and finally, after long and excruciating seconds, blackness welcomed him.

* * *

 

He wasn't thinking, he pulled at the restraints as hard as he could, the metal cutting the skin on his wrists, causing a loud rattling to echo in the otherwise silent room. He had woken seconds before, in the dark except for the flicker of a light at his bedside, alone and in pain. He panicked, the only thought in his mind being that his torture wasn't over and this was only the next step coming from Pike's sick brain. He tried, over and over again, to get free, until he felt blood run on his hands and forearms.

A hand on his forehead and another on his shoulder.

''Shh Marcus, calm down, it's okay.''

The voice he had longed to hear, the voice that held the power to make everything better, less worrying.

''Abby...''

It hurt to speak. The croaked sound that came out of his mouth made the both of them wince, one in sympathy and the other in irritation. She turned around and came back with a glass of water that he gulped down eagerly when she held his head for him. The movement made him whimper in pain.

''I'm sorry Marcus, the bastard wouldn't let me use any painkiller on you. I managed to smuggle some but it will only take the edges off for a few hours.''

He nodded weakly. That was to be expected. Each breath he took sent throbs of pain all over his body, a constant reminder of what he endured. A reminder that would never leave him. He was forever marked, the worst of scars. Not one that he could be proud of, not one that recalled a battle scar. Abby's hand was stroking his hair, she knew it always worked to calm him, and this time was no exception.

''Hey, don't worry, we'll find a way, like we always do. I'm here.''

''But you weren't.''

He blamed the fever for his words. He blamed the shivers that ran up and down his body covered by a thin sheet, hiding the big white bandage on his chest. He didn't mean to speak them out loud, didn't mean to sound so aggressive. Too late. The harm was done. Abby withdrew her hand so quickly she knocked the glass of water that was on the nightstand. It shattered on the floor, but none of them payed it any attention. The silent seconds that followed were so heavy that he was considering apologizing when she spoke.

''I wanted to. You have no idea how much... I hate myself for not being there. With you, for you. I know it's no excuse, but I tried to make contact with Indra, and then I heard these men talk about what they were going to do to you. I couldn't bear... I heard your scr – I heard you.''

She was crying now, her muffled sobs catching the edges of her distressed words. She couldn't look him in the eye, and turned her head to escape the anguish that was painted on his face, which allowed him to notice a detail. A very important detail. His first instinct was to touch the yellowish bruise on her left cheek, but the handcuffs on his wrists prevented him from doing so, eliciting a frustrated growl. At the sound, Abby noticed where his eyes were looking, a sad smile making its way to her lips.

''When I heard the firsts – I, it changed my mind and I tried to get to you. They wouldn't let me go outside. Pike didn't even send you here at first, he threw you back in the cell. He only relented because he was afraid you'd die. Apparently Octavia was quite vocal about what she thought of the man because of this.''

Her tears were still running down her cheeks but her hands were fidgeting with a roll of small bandages for his bloodied wrists. He moved his arm slightly to catch her attention and when her eyes looked down he opened his hand, hoping she would take the hint. She did, and slipped her hand in his. He gave it a light squeeze.

''Closer.''

She frowned but did as she was told and brought her chair closer to the medical cot. He bit back a groan of pain when he mustered all the energy he had left and leaned on his shoulder to press a kiss to her lips. It wasn't comfortable, it wasn't romantic, it wasn't at all how he had pictured their first kiss. But it felt good, incredibly good. Abby wrapped an arm around his shoulders to relieve some of the pressure on his cuffed wrists, and deepened the kiss.

They were in this together, no matter what.


End file.
